Life's adventures continue ...

3 November 2011, Rumbek, South Sudan

Did I mention that I have mastered a new skill?  The art of locking my office door.  The door is metal and is nearly impossible to lock.  It has bolts on the inside that slide into the concrete jamb to hold it closed, a tiny door that opens so you can reach in and slide those bolts to secure the door, and a padlock to lock the small door on the outside.  Got that?  I strained for days to hold the door closed with my hip while my left arm tried to push the inside bolt into lock position.  It was a daily struggle ... then I figured out that two actions -- a quick hip check on the door and a fast throw of the bolt -- if done simultaneously, shot the bolt quickly and efficiently.  The first time I did it successfully was as exciting as reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to my parents for the first time in first grade.  A marvelous accomplishment.  Now I do it pretty routinely.  Wonder where this skill will go on my CV?

My office door

12 November

Still in Rumbek although I took a small side trip last Saturday to Juba, South Sudan’s capital.  Alfred, one of my Senior Management Team and a Sudanese national who’s not from Rumbek, and I went there to visit with various government and non-government agencies and to see our Juba office, which has been a bit of a mystery.  WfWI was told by the former director that an office in Juba was required, and she leased a small house for a large rent.  

My first flight with World Food Program (WFP).  For some years now, the UN Humanitarian Air Service (UNHAS) has provided air transport to the WFP and was expanded to include aid workers who also needed to access inaccessible places in countries getting humanitarian aid.  WFP provides food to places of famine.  In South Sudan, food literally dropped from the sky.  Now it’s more likely to arrive by truck.  Aid workers are often around to help people to transition from manna from heaven to manna from tilling the soil.  Others work in health, education etc.  UNHAS helps us get to/from those locations with a fleet of propeller driven aircraft.

The Dash 80 that we flew in seated about 40 people and even had a flight attendant who served coffee, soft drinks and bagged snacks on the one-stop trip south; no service on our non-stop return.  On that flight, the crew was Canadian so the flight attendant did all of her announcements in French and English.

Juba is a typical African city ... dirty, overcrowded, over-car'd, insufficient asphalt streets and lots of rutted red clay ones.  No public transportation other than matatus (jitneys).  Hot, humid and when it rains, it deluges, something I experienced the first night there.  Driving down most streets simulated skiing moguls in the Rockies only no hills.  My favorite shops that we passed, Boozy Baby Perfume and Abdallah for Japan Spare Parts next door to Bad Boy Shop. Hmmm.  

The hotel where I stayed in Juba, and others I visited there, were all like this one ... essentially double bungalows (bedroom and en suite bathroom).  It’s a cost efficient way to develop; you aren’t committed to a huge structure, you build the number you think you can rent, then easily build more as business increases.  Smart thinking.

On Friday, before Alfred and I left Rumbek, a public holiday was declared for the Monday we’d be in Juba, Eid al Adha, an important Muslim holy day.   Couple that with the fact that our full-time Juba representative didn’t make any appointments for us despite being asked and given specifics by both of us, we managed to have a good week.  We visited our Juba office which has no sign on it although a beautiful new sign marks the turn off from the main road.  We checked out other hotels that we might use in Juba and would be less expensive than where I’d stayed.  We interviewed a lawyer who might potentially represent us.  And we got to the agency where we need to re-register and got all the information we need to handle that this week.  

And I ate well. We ate lunch every day in local cafes.  Lunch is at 1 to 2 pm and more dinner than a US-style lunch, lots of meat or fish, a few veggies for garnish, white-flour bread sticks or a local bread similar to injeera that I had in Ethiopia, only this is white and not as thick and spongy.  I stuck with chicken since I had no idea what some of the other menu items were.  This is an eat-with-your-hands culture -- you use whatever the bread is in lieu of a fork, fingers work well as ‘knives’ and forks too. That's one of the things I love about Africa, that and the fact that you can chew on the bones and no one cares.  At a place called Mama Zahara's, I had the best grilled chicken I've ever eaten.  I even got the white meat sections.  Like so many places I’ve lived, people here prefer legs and thighs.  The kitchen was probably glad to unload a double breast and wing on me.  I pulled it apart and made "sandwiches" using the soft bread sticks and veggie garnish.  I think the meal cost $5.  

13 November 2011

What a lovely Sunday I’ve had.  At lunch I told my HQ colleague Joseph that I wanted to invite the other three expats over toward the end of the afternoon.  No work talk, just a chance to relax together.  He agreed to use our pick up as transport for them.  Around four o’clock, they arrived and we all sat in the garden until twilight.  Everyone told stories.  We learned that Alfred had served in the military, and that our former director had too.  She was a captain, “three stars,” Alfred said.  That led to discussion of the efforts to disarm South Sudan and how it really isn’t working in part because of all the instability in neighboring countries.  Guns smuggled across the borders are traded for something more valuable, like cows.  Ten guns per cow.  And cows are valuable for their own sake, not as economic exchange; they aren’t even slaughtered for food very often.

The garden where we sat

Joseph told about how arms came in during the war.  A cargo plane from Ukraine would fly to a place like Tanzania with armaments for the TZ army and an outbound manifest for fish or some TZ export.  The plane would land in TZ but not off load.  Then it would take off and purposely crash in southern Sudan. A planeload of arms with nowhere to go but the place where the plane crashed.  

From things military, we moved to marriage customs.  Alfred told about a tribe in South Sudan where young men must stand in a row naked so that a potential bride can select the one she wants.  Juliet, Lucy and I hooted at that.  Then he said the aunties got to watch the couple on their wedding night to ensure the bride was a virgin.  If she wasn’t, the bride price was reduced.  At least she wasn’t stoned to death.  

And on to families, especially the custom among many Africans of just dropping in without announcement and expecting to be fed, entertained and have your transport home paid by the “host.”  And after abusing your hospitality, Joseph said, they will return to the village and only say negative things about you, never anything nice.  Joseph, Juliet and Lucy are Kenyans, all from different areas.  

Lucy said her brother, who lives in their home village, has had this problem solved for him.  His wife, who’s from another tribe, greets such guests with a few questions, like ‘why are you here,’ ‘how long are you staying,’ etc.  She’s become known as being unfriendly, and her husband has the convenient excuse that it’s his wife, not him.  And they both get to enjoy their life without freeloaders. Alfred said South Sudan has a similar custom, and when his wife finds herself with unwelcome visitors, she tells them she has children to take care of.  And I related how my siblings and I had to give up our bedrooms when my uncle and his girlfriend would come to visit back in the 1950s when, of course, my mother could not put them in the same bedroom.  We three got the sofa bed in the living room.  He visited for every holiday, the same time that I was home from college, and my aunt/his sister wondered why I was never happy to see him!

And then there were the disturbing stories about the warped mentality you often find here.  Like the UN worker, a foreigner, who was driving along and came upon a bicyclist.  The driver gave a wide berth as he passed the bicycle, but apparently the cyclist had not known a car was behind him. And when the car passed him, he got startled and fell off his bike.  He went to the police to complain and the UN worker was fined a cow.  Why?  Because if this foreigner had not been in South Sudan, the cyclist would not have fallen from his bicycle.  Similar thinking after a similar incident sent a foreign doctor to jail for a week before someone bailed him out with the correct number of cows.  

The Africa Marriage Act passed somewhere in the late ‘50s allowed for polygamy in Commonwealth countries in Africa.  Hence, the city wife and the village wife or wives.  Joseph told of a neighbor in Nairobi who had an urban wife who didn’t know about the village wife.  And when she found out, she told the husband to choose.  He chose the village and for awhile abandoned his city wife and children.  When he came to town one day, his neighbors confronted him about his lack of support for his family, shaming him into at least providing some financial support.  So now he drops off money every week without getting out of his car.  Lucy said so many of these men drive Toyota Prado SUVs that the car is referred to as the “How are the kids?”  Dad rolls down the window just far enough to hand Mom an envelope with money and ask “How are the kids?”

One last story from Joseph.  Dinka is the tribe that predominates here in Lakes State, and they are known for being even more aggressive and self absorbed than Dinkas elsewhere.  Anyway this young Dinka man was a contestant on a regional TV program like American Idol. And he got onto the stage, ready to sing when his cell phone rang.  He took it from his pocket, answered, talked a minute or so, before hanging up.  The judges sat watching, aghast at his behavior.  He could not understand why he was disqualified right then.  

Now I’m back in my room cursing at the Internet connection which has been going off and on at about two minutes intervals since yesterday.  I usually try to Skype my sister brother, a friend or two on Sundays.  But I cannot get a connection long enough to even dial the number.  I will be so happy when I move to a new place.

15 November

A tragedy was averted today.  One of our drivers and another staff member were driving back to the office when a motorcyclist ran into the truck.  The motorcyclist hurt his leg but nothing too bad, and my guys were fine.  The motorcyclist didn’t want to go to the hospital or involve the police, so the guys took him home.  They called the office to say what had happened and eventually returned.

I knew we needed to compensate the motorcyclist in some way.  So after consulting with some staff, we decided that 600 SSPs in cash and a large sack of flour and another of sugar were appropriate.  The motorcyclist expressed his gratitude to the staff members who delivered everything (they recommended that I not go).

16 November

I totally forgot to tell you that I started the day yesterday by dancing with a group of our women who were in town for a meeting.  About 30 or so came to discuss what they want to do at a farm we operate ... they initiated the meeting and Lucy and Joseph spent half a day with them.  But before they walked over to the meeting place (we have no meeting rooms), they sang for several minutes outside our gate.  Then I went out to greet them, shake hands and clap along.  But at one point they started jumping up and down to the music and moving their arms rhythmically, a dance.  So I joined in.  Not sure if anyone got a photo, but if so, I’ll post.

Welcome to our offices in Rumbek

20 November

How ironic that I moved from the hotel earlier than I’d planned because their Internet was so inconsistent ... and now, in the new compound, I can get into the Internet but it won’t open my email or browser accounts.  I have a feeling it only likes Microsoft products because that’s how I finally got it to work on my office laptop.  Weird that Mac works fine at the office and worked at Hillview but not here.  Must ask my new friend, Kalvin, the IT fellow.  At least here they have one.  And I do love an IT specialist who has a sense of humor and a smile ... that’s Kalvin.

When I first went to him on Friday afternoon, I couldn’t make a connection using either computer.  At one point, he gave me his user name and password to try, and that worked.  We made it work eventually on both of my laptops, and I downloaded messages. Now I cannot even get the login page to open.

Yesterday I was sick all day (lots of bathroom time and sleep), so I didn’t really use the computer much.  But I did get on last night briefly.  I had gone to dinner in search of soup, which I found, and Kalvin saw me and asked how the Internet was working.  He also introduced me to Gloria.  Her name is his password, so when we used that on Friday, I’d asked if she was his girlfriend and said I’d like to meet her.

The problem today is that once I got on, and then the clock started ticking for the six hours of time I bought, but I didn’t get any use from it.  I ran disk utility, like defragging, and uninstalled my firewall (which all of the Apple people said was unnecessary anyway), and nothing has changed.  And today is Sunday, so no Kalvin.  I’m sure those of you who know me really well and how well I tolerate computer problems can feel my frustration from 10,000 miles away.

But enough.  We now have a full complement of management.  Norman, our regional finance manager, has take over the Finance office with Samuel, the cashier.  Job, the regional HR manager, is working with our new HR officer, Abraham, who seems to be working out well so far (one week).  Joseph, the coop specialist, has departed for Afghanistan, but we’ve gotten approval to fill the vacant cooperative support officer position.  We all hope the #2 choice will accept; #1 did, then didn’t show up for work!

Now we’re starting planning and budgeting, and I have to figure out when we can have a off-site planning conference amidst a hectic schedule of visitors and travel.  I may get things started here, then have Norman run an off-site session while I’m in Poland.  Tomorrow’s decision.

As I noted above, I moved.  And so has all of the management team for the moment.  We’re living in the Afex compound.  Africa Expeditions Ltd. has similar compounds all over -- housing with full board as well as office space.  We are likely moving our offices here come early December.  Most of us are living in safari-style tents, but they also have “hard rooms” similar to my place at Hillview.  

The street where I live in Alpha 1 (in background)

I like my tent.  It’s cozy, has air conditioning and a fan, and the bathroom reminds of vacation homes on Househunters International on HGTV -- concrete floors, natural brick walls, real hot water and no smelly shower curtain.  Somehow it feels like a more authentic experience. Complete with daily maid service and laundry, of course.

Update -- after lunch I learned that some part on the satellite connection blew up.  The Internet will be down until at least Wednesday.  That’s as soon as it can be brought up from Nairobi.  The flights from Nairobi are at 8 am MWF, so if they can buy it on Monday or Tuesday, it can be shipped on Wednesday.  Ah, the joys of life in the wilds.

22 November

The reactions I got when i emailed this photo of my new home to family friends in the US -- well, lots of disbelief, a bit of humor too.  Oh, ye of little faith.  My tent home has air conditioning and a fan, a bathroom right out of HGTV’s Househunters International vacation homes (large brick-walled shower, hot water, flush toilet), daily maid service, laundry service as needed.  The compound is huge and includes a cafeteria for my three squares and a bar should I acquire a taste for beer (no wine, no diet anything, lots of beer and water and a few whiskeys).  My entire senior staff is here, so I even have friends in the neighborhood. So ... all’s well.

27 November

It was an especially busy week.  Juliet, the Life Skills manager, had organized a train-the-trainer course with all of our trainers.  But, as of Saturday, we had not heard from Nina, the trainer, who was supposed to fly in from India on Monday morning and start training in the afternoon.  Our Plan B (back up) plan was Juliet running a training. On Sunday, something in the VSAT that is our Internet connection from this compound blew up ... best case scenario, Internet up again here on Monday night.  But we had a VSAT at the office.  Off we went, taking the manager of ALS, the privately owned airline that flies from Nairobi on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, to our office. He used my laptop to check the flight manifest, and Nina’s ticket had not been issued. So we had him issue the ticket since it was transferrable if she didn’t use it.  And we waited. 

On Monday, Nina arrived as scheduled, and we all breathed the proverbial collective sigh of relief.  Oh, we of little faith. Ironically Nina’s brother works for Target Corp. and lives in Plymouth, a western suburb of Minneapolis.  So we had a small connection.  She and the trainers had a great week.  The trainers all were excited about what they were learning, and by Friday, were rarin’ to go and put it to use.  In the meantime, Lucy (Income Generation manager) and I had a donor visitor coming, a representative from a private foundation that has supported our work on a demonstration farm.  It was the donor’s first site visit, but Ka-Hay, the rep, had lived in Zambia for several years so was prepared for the likes of South Sudan.  She was coming on a WFP flight from Juba midday on Wednesday.

Since we want to stay connected with the appropriate ministries, other NGOs and UN agencies, we’ve assigned various meetings to other senior management members.  So I scheduled myself to attend the Wednesday morning meeting of the  “livelihoods” group at the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, which I discovered is farther from the office than I knew.  I thought I was late, but alas, others including the chair were later.  The meeting was scheduled for two hours.  My phone, set on “meeting mode” vibrated and seeing that it was Ka-Hay calling, I leaned over and answered, then quickly excused myself for an emergency, climbing past others because of course, I was sitting in the middle.  (I later learned that the meeting droned on until 1 pm.)

Ka-Hay was at the airport in Juba and being refused a boarding pass because she didn’t have a letter of introduction from us (in lieu of a WfWI-SS ID card, as we all have).  Our logistics person had sent this to WFP but who knows what happened.  I talked to the gate agent, agreed with him that I would send the letter before the plane took off.

Awaking my dozing driver, I told him we had to hurry to the office, then called Job, our regional HR person who’s helping out, and asked him to start typing a letter for me to sign, stamp, PDF and email.  I called Ka-Hay to update her and learned they had allowed her to check in.  Whew!  Big hurdle jumped.  The letter was ready by the time I returned, so I finished the process and texted Ka-Hay ‘mission accomplished.’  She was boarding the plane, which of course, took the long way around to Rumbek so she arrived at 5 pm, not 3 pm.  Lucy and a driver met her at the airport to drive her to this compound where she would stay.  She was flabbergasted that the car only drove about 100 feet.  The Afex compound is literally across the road from the airport entrance.  So when she departed on Saturday morning, we all walked across to the airport with her.

Her visit was hectic but exhilarating.  My first trips to the field -- the farm all day on Thursday and several women’s groups who are doing well on Friday.  Because there had been rumors earlier that our previous director might try to disrupt this visit, we had two unarmed, non-unformed security guards provided by the government.  The trips were long and hot and incredible.  Both Ka-Hay and I were surprised at how huge the farm is (90 hectares) and how little of the land is actually under cultivation. The women are remarkable -- singing and dancing their way along the paths, showing us what they had done and telling us their stories and their challenges (free range cattle and goats that eat their seedlings and crops, flood waters from a nearby river during the rainy season, the need to hand carry water because the irrigation systems don’t quite work as they should).

Ka-Hay and women ready to see the farm

Everywhere we went, the women sang and danced with joy

On Friday we visited a group of graduates who are planting and harvesting ground nuts (peanuts), diving their largesse among current consumption, future sales and seeds for the next season.  We were impressed by their organization and their vision.  They have already cleared a place to build an office and storage of their own.  Another group is like a mini-conglomerate.  When they started, each invested part of the WfWI savings into buying sorghum at the market and selling it in their village, making a profit even with transport costs.  But price fluctuations meant a profit wasn’t assured.  So they started to lend money to returnees who get regular monthly government stipends and charge 50 percent interest (!) for a month (!!).  They also have a small shelter from which they sell hot tea, local bread and inexpensive meals.  And they have done this on their own.  

Not yet a cooperative, but already a conglomerate!

Riding with our two young security guards was a venture into the local culture.  We passed a cattle camp where families had gathered not only to water their cows but also to arrange a marriage.  This gave the bride’s family a chance to examine and evaluate the cows on offer to pay the bride price and ensure they got value for their bride.  If I recall correctly, 80 cows is an average bride price in this tribe’s culture but if the family is wealthy, the price can go up to 300 or more.  That led to what might make a bride more valuable besides her family heritage -- tall, strong legs, very dark, nice looking face; an education and/or a job would be pluses but unusual.  But bottom line, marriages are arranged by the patriarchs.  And marriageable age begins at around 13, when a girl has her first period.  And most are married and have a child by 18.

Cattle camp where a young woman’s life is being decided

While girls increase a family’s wealth by adding cows through their marriages, boys are still the more valued children.  They tend the cows but they don’t even own the cows acquired in marriage.  Those are all added to the family herd.  A young man might walk a cow for grazing to show off a little but it won’t be his cow; it will be his family’s.

Young men in the family have to marry in birth order, the oldest first etc.  So our tall English-speaking guard, who looked to be in his mid twenties and was #7 of 9, still had a couple of single brothers to see married before it was his turn.  Rumbek is not his home, so we asked what would happen if he wanted to marry a girl from there.  Not without his father’s approval, otherwise, even if they married, the wife would not be considered his wife within the family.  

Ka-Hay, whose parents are from China, and Lucy, who’s Kenyan, shared some of the marriage customs of their cultures.  They Bona, the guard, asked about America.  Everyone laughed when I said it was pretty much do what you want except among newer immigrants who still maintained strong cultural ties with their homelands.  I did relate walking down the aisle with a gold sovereign in my shoe and being married at five minutes to noon, both for good luck and requirements of my Scottish grandmother, the one I’m named for.

30 November

Let’s close the month with a few grafs about critters.  All kinds of critters.  First, those that at least appear to be the most benign -- the herd of cats, domestic breeds, not ocelots and lions but likely feral, that chase around our compound day and night making the most gawdawful noises.  You’d swear it was perpetual mating season!

We have calicoes and tabbies, black-and-white tuxedos and even the occasional single color.  They are likely fed by the kitchen staff but have been known to beg in the dining hall. The other night Norman, our interim finance manager, and I had a cute little calico yowling under our table, even standing up between our chairs hoping for a hand out.  But much as I wanted to feed it, I didn’t.  

Tuesday night Juliet and Lucy, two of the senior managers, and I were talking over dinner.  I mentioned that Norman had had a scorpion fall from the ceiling of his tent to the floor.  Despite its quickness, Norman was able to kill it.  That started Juliet on tales of intruders ... the guy who found a snake stretched out on the wooden bed frame under the overhanging blankets ... or the other who found a scorpion under his blankets at the foot of his bed.  All tales from elsewhere, Juliet reassured us.  But like me, Lucy was susceptible and checked her bed before climbing in.  Me too.

So last night, I’m lying on the bed reading when my eyes are ready to fall out.  I sit up, roll my feet to the floor ... and there is a small toad.  The outdoors here is hopping with toads, which everyone keeps calling frogs.  And Aboubacar, my HQ finance helper who was here last month, said where there are frogs, there are snakes.  Our general feeling is that there are enough frogs/toads to feed the snakes and keep them from our tents.  But I digress ...

I stood up quickly and tried to figure out how I would get rid of the little guy.  He would not be able to hop into my bed (or at least I didn’t think so; he was only about 1.5 inches tall).  But what if I arose for my 3 am bathroom break and stepped on him?  Argh.  Then I spied my Pittsburgh Steelers baseball cap on a nearby desk.  Grabbing it, I got down on the floor and made an unsuccessful attempt to capture Toady.  He hopped under the bed.  I leaned in and got him.  I picked up the cap, holding one of Toady’s legs with it and walked to the tent exit.  A quick unzip, an even quicker toss of Toady outside, and the hat was back on desk, never to be worn again until it’s washed.

And of course, lest the insects of the world be left out in the cold, I have already caught and flushed away two giant roach things.  They’re bright reddish brown with long feelers and hard shells but thankfully very slow.  One was in the shower this morning, the other in the sink yesterday.  And then there were none.  I am not looking forward to the rainy season!

On the road again

2 October, Minneapolis

A perfect day to run a marathon ... or to support someone who is.  My oldest niece Michelle and her running mate Becky have been training steadily and completed the 26.2 mile course from downtown Minneapolis to the state capitol in St. Paul in just under four and a half hours, much as they expected and beating their time in 2010.  Michelle’s husband Jon, her sister Dyana who came in from San Francisco and I hit a few points along the route to cheer them on, along with a few other friends and relatives.  One of Becky’s friends had made a signature sign that helped them find us (see below), one side said Michelle and the other, Becky. After the racers had had a chance to cool off and shower, we went for a sandwich at a local pub.  We had done a “carbo load” the night before at a local Italian family-style eatery.

Michelle and Becky awaiting their carbs

Hang a sign aloft and the runners will find you; that’s my oldest nephew David

Racing along scenic Summit Avenue in St. Paul

My very first road race, the St. Paul St. Patrick’s Day race in 1976, was a five-miler along Summit Avenue.  The temp was below freezing and inexperienced me was way over-dressed.  But I finished in 10 minute miles exactly.  While I loved watching Twin Cities, a small part of me yearned to be on the course.  It’s been 20 years since my last marathon, Grandma’s in June 1991; my third and my best time, 4 hours and 21 minutes.

4 October

What a week!  So much to do before I leave on Sunday -- my lists have lists.  Lots of friends asking what they can do to help ... and the only answer is ‘clone me.’  Most of what I need to do requires that I do it -- putting the phones on suspension while I’m gone, getting a ‘vacation waiver’ from my health insurer so I can get three months of my cholesterol meds to take along, discontinuing my car insurance, alerting the credit card companies to my travels, seeing the Travel Clinic doc and updating my vaccinations.  Tomorrow Sue and Nancy will help me pack up breakables that I really care about to ensure they aren’t damaged.  There isn’t much and a couple of hours should be enough.  Then it’ll be off to REI and Walgreen’s to stock up on mosquito repellent and a water filter/cleaner, assorted over-the-counter items.

6 October

My friend Susan and I had dinner tonight at Zelo, a favorite of both of us and located on Nicollet Mall, so a walk for both of us.  We had dinner there about a month ago and for the first time ever, had horrible service.  Neither of us could believe our waiter’s behavior; he tossed the check folder on our table as he walked back to the kitchen!  We agree it was worth a formal complaint.  Although neither of us is a big eater nor drinker, so we tend to salads and starters, we are both good tippers.  We did tip this creep, mainly because the bus person was so attentive.

I got busy and didn’t register my complaint online where I’d made the reservation.  In the meantime time, Susan finally reached the manager, who was quite unhappy about our experience ... and set her a $75 gift card for a return visit.  That’s what we used last night.  We had no sooner sat down when Kim, the manager Susan had talked to, came over, introduced herself and apologized.  We both expressed our own surprise at the service during the previous visit and how much we love this restaurant.  I had even referred two tourists that I helped during the day.  Our waiter was a classic example of why I love Zelo, not just attentive but full of personality without being over the top.  Before we finished, another of the restaurant managers also stopped by.  We felt like celebrities.  As icing on the cake, Susan gained a gift certificate for the online fund-raising auction that Mixed Blood Theatre will hold (she’s on the board).  All in all, a good night.

7 October

The craziness continues as I gather all that I’ll need to take with me, pack away things that Chris won’t need, fill out and fax forms, and wait on hold after ponderously making my way through one more automated menu that doesn’t quite seem to identify my need.  Have I told you lately how much I hate all this automation?  When I cancelled my Netflix, the company wanted to know why ... and not one single item on their lengthy checklists dealt with a move away from where Netflix was available.  Yesterday the pharmacy tech at Walgreen’s contacted Humana about a vacation waiver so I can get coverage for all of the Rx for anti-malarials, not just part of what I’ll need.  He worked his way to a human being, answered numerous questions and was told he needed another person,  eventually got that connection and as he was identifying his Walgreen’s was disconnected.  Back to square one.  I had to admire not only his patience but his easy manner about the whole thing.  Finally he got the waiver, so today I can get the Rx.

When I drove to the Y at 7 am for my water exercise class, I turned on Minnesota Public Radio and the first item I heard was the announcement of three women receiving the Nobel Peace Prize.  Awesome!  I was especially pleased that two are African women.  So much of the good stuff that goes on in transitional and conflict-ridden countries is accomplished in anonymity by women of all ages, races, religions.  I’ve experienced it starting in Poland in the early post-communist days on through the Balkans and East Africa today.  So often women are laboring to improve the world their children will inherit while all too many men are enjoying local brew.  

I’ve often thought it ironic that Nobel should offer a peace prize since he made his fortune from dynamite.  My great-grandfather, I’m told, was managing director of his factory in my mother’s hometown in Scotland (the factory is closed).

Today’s chores -- get ready for afternoon open house in case anyone attends (I’ve had numerous emails of regrets), pack and last minute pick ups.

Later ... A friend that I haven’t seen in years, Judi, came over this afternoon, along with a handful of others (Anne, Jan Judy, Deb, Doug, Marilyn).  They each represent a different part of my past, from the neighborhood where I lived while married through assorted jobs in the Twin Cities to Peace Corps.  Judi was at my going away to PC party at which she got so excited that she decided to volunteer.  A year later she was in Lithuania, and I hadn’t felt so responsible for another person since my son was born!  Today was such a great treat, spending a couple of hours just chatting and enjoying their company,introducing friends to other friends they haven’t met before, reminiscing and telling tales.

And even later ... My sister Barbara is the queen of new restaurants in Minneapolis.  She’s always on the lookout for new places to try, whether they’re just opened or she’s just identified them.  And I am rarely disappointed when I try one with her.  Tonight was no exception.  She, her daughter Tomery and I went to The Bachelor Farmer, which opened about a month ago near where Barbara lives in the warehouse district.  She walked; I took a bus and walked the last few blocks.  Tomery drove so I got a ride home!

The food was outstanding, exceeded by the service. Definitely worth another visit.

10 October, Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam

Ah, the joys of international travel these days.  Are there any?  Well, getting safely eventually to your destination.  That may be all.

Arrived here while it was still very dark outside and have about four hours before my flight to Nairobi, Kenya.  I’m in a part of this airport that I haven’t been in since my days of flying to Nairobi and on to Kampala, Uganda.  Have to learn where to find a good cup of coffee and some granola and yoghurt as well as where there are US outlets for my laptop.  

Getting to the airport in Minneapolis was a breeze with Janet’s help ... she even agreed to hang around so I could call her if my bags were over-weight.  Then I discovered that I had left my iPhone on the sofa in my condo -- I took it out of my carryon because I was sure Janet would call me on that phone when she arrived at the condo.  And she didn’t.  We were going to call Christopher, my youngest nephew and condo-and-cat sitter, but discovered Janet had forgotten her cell phone.  What a pair!  Thankfully I’m one of those people who are waaaay early for flights, I don’t live all that far from the airport and it was Sunday so traffic was light.  A quick return home, a long loud buzz on the buzzer to alert Chris and down he came with the phone ... and off we went to the airport again.  The bags were well within the weight restrictions, so I rolled up my raincoat and added it.  One less thing to carry.

Saw friend Fern who volunteers at Travelers Aid on Sundays.  She was all alone; a colleague who was to share duties with her hadn’t shown up.  So we didn’t visit for long.  

The flight wasn’t totally full but still not many empty seats.  We were all finally seated when the pilot announced a slight delay due to a technical problem, one of those messages you’d much rather hear on the ground before takeoff.  Something needed to be reset.  We taxied to another area, got the thingamjig reset and off we went.

Didn’t get much sleep though I did close my eyes and try.  My seat mate muttered to herself in Russian when she was awake and fidgeted continuously when she wasn’t.  Three women behind us who were traveling together watched the same movie, Bridesmaids, alternating between raucous laughter, giggles and loud commentary.  My saving grace was the young woman in front of me who didn’t jam her seat back into my knees or bounce against it routinely.  

I made it to AMS: the sun is now rising somewhere out there behind the gloomy sky and gray clouds, and I’ve had a lovely cafe latte, yoghurt and granola, and croissant for breakfast.  Now to take a walk ... I have another 8+ hour flight ahead of me.

12 October, Nairobi, Kenya

Things I’ve forgotten about East Africa:

• How chilly it can get when it rains and at night
• What a traffic jam really can mean
• A line, what’s a line?

By the time we departed AMS, the sun was making a valiant effort to shine and I was flagging fast.  It was about 4 am by my body’s clock.  Thankfully I shared my two-seat row with a Dutch woman who mostly read and watched movies pretty motionlessly while I closed my eyes and dozed a little.  So when I got to Nairobi in the evening, I was less exhausted than 24 hours of travel might assume.  But the airport was as noisy and hot as I recalled from the past.  I did not need the zip-up sweatshirt I had worn on the plane.

Contrary to my bullet point above, the two very long get-a-visa lines were pretty orderly except for one man who just walked up to the front of the other line.  Others in that line were bewildered and a few seemed to be commenting but he still stepped up to the clerk as soon as she was available.  Surprisingly both lines moved pretty efficiently and it only took me about half an hour.  My suitcases were already on the carousel when I got there, and a driver from the hotel was waiting for “Mary Vallance” (I’m not sure why they used my first and middle names, but at least I recognized the name ... I was starting to flag again.)

Outside I was glad for the sweatshirt.  It had rained and was quite chilly, made worse by the ever-present high humidity.

My hotel room is huge, more like a mini-studio apartment with a tiny galley kitchen, sofa seating area and big flat screen TV that I can watch from there or the bed.  Only hitch is that this duffus forgot that Kenya had been a British colony and the electrical plug adapters need to be for British outlets.  I have three ... in my travel bag in Minneapolis.  Luckily I did bring my one ‘universal’ adapter and it works.  I just have to remember to switch on the outlet when I charge things; each outlet has its own off/on switch.  You also need to turn on electricity for the room by placing the room card key in a little gizmo by the entry, something I’ve encountered in lots of hotels.  Strangely the television can remain on even when the card key isn’t in the gizmo.

Yesterday I talked to Jan, our regional director, who prepared my letter of invitation and emailed it to me.  No wi fi in this hotel; I have to use the business center.  Jan alerted me to a coffee shop not far away that has free wi fi; off to that place today for sure.  

By the time we sorted everything, it was after 11 am when I arrived at the South Sudan Embassy; it closes for visa applications at 12:30 pm, and I needed to deposit my fee in their bank account and bring back the receipt.  If only I’d known I could go to the bank first, I wouldn’t have been running through a shopping mall just before noon.  My cab got me to the mall, location of the bank, and waited for me.  The bank line again was pretty orderly because stanchions, like they use at airports, defined lines.  The man behind me was from Portland, Oregon, and there for the same purpose as I.  The young Kenyan ahead of me heard me say I was from Minneapolis, where he said members of his family now live.  They’d gotten green cards last year.  He said they told him it was very cold in Minnesota, and I verified that.  He let me go ahead of him in line and gave me his business card; he’s an artisan with a stall in an artisan shopping mall.  I’ll visit him on one of my journeys here, but probably not this one.  My suitcases are already too full.

Despite my cabbie’s best efforts, traffic was against us and I was five minutes late returning to the visa office.  Six or eight men were crowded around the window waiting ... hoping ... the clerk would return.  This was the kind of line I remembered from my Uganda days.  That is, no line.  Just a crush of bodies in front of one reticent clerk.  

David, a logistics person who works with us here, was waiting for me.  He’d missed me by five minutes at the hotel and visa office; unfortunately I didn’t know he was to meet me.  He suggested I make a plea to the clerk, thinking a mzungu woman might have more sway.  But alas, no. My plea fell short; I was told to return at 9:30 today when she opens.  But she said I would get the visa in time for the Friday morning flight.  David will meet me here at 9 and off we’ll go to remind her of her “promise.”  Then I’ll have him help with some errands, like finding the coffee shop and changing some more money.  

My faithful cab driver took me to meet Jan at her home office, and I spent the afternoon getting a briefing from her along with a pile of things to read.  That’ll keep me busy today and tomorrow.  Jan leaves for Rumbek today.  By the time we finished, I was flagging so decided to bite the bullet and take a taxi back right away rather than wait in a coffee shop for an hour.  That was when I remembered just how bad a traffic jam can be here.  For my Minneapolis readers who have driven the interstates into or out of the city at rush hour, you aint’ seen nuthin’ traffic wise.  Picture two or three times that many cars on a roadway half that wide with no defining lane dividers; round abouts, not clover leafs (leaves?), for direction changes; and rare traffic lights.  Frequently we sat so long in one place that the cabbie turned off the motor.  He used the time on his mobile while I read from my Kindle until it got too dark.  We encountered two road blockages on major side streets -- each was cut off by a huge pile of red clay dirt and neither was marked anywhere for a detour.  My cabbie along with a handful of other cars who’d taken the ‘short cuts’ had to turn around both times and take an alternate route.

Well, it’s 4 am so I’m going to try to get back to sleep.  More later.

Evening ... Headed out at 9 for the South Sudan Embassy to drop off my application for a visa and plead for a speedier processing than the 48 hours in their instructions.  Ran into a young man that I had met yesterday.  We were both at the entrance shortly after 9, and the guard refused to let us wait; he sent us down to the building entrance to wait until 9:30.  Back up we went at the appointed hour only to find half a dozen folks in front of us.  The clerk actually apologized for sending us away yesterday ... “regulations.”  I handed her my papers and requested a copy of the bank deposit receipt.  She said she’d see about how quickly the visa could be processed.  Pick up time is set hours in the afternoon.  David called at 4:30 to say he had my passport with visa and would bring it to the hotel.  Hurray!

I’ve spent much of the day reading documents that Janet downloaded for me yesterday.  Much as I’d prefer paper copies, I read them on my laptop and my eyes are ready for bed.  I’ve alternated between BBC and CNN for background noise ... and what should I find on CNN?  Promotions all day for a Jim Clancy feature, “Eye of Macedonia,” that is on now.  One of the earlier spots included an interview with the CEO/co-founder of fx3x, the digital media company that helped us start that industry under the USAID project I managed; the company continues to do well.  I got a chance to see some of the public art that the government has paid for recently, much to the chagrin, dismay, anger of many Macedonians and to all of those whom I know.  Milcho Manchevski, Macedonia’s most famous film maker, was interviewed.  I saw his Oscar-nominated “Before the Rain” on videotape while living there, but I didn’t know that he had directed TV’s “The Wire.”  He has a new film coming out, “Mothers,” that I hope I can see when it’s released.

13 October

We’ve had drizzly rain every morning when I go to breakfast, ditto today.  So off I’ll go in a sweater as it’s chilly.  I’m taking a box of candy to the South Sudan visa clerk as a ‘thank you’ for her speed.  Then off to a forex (kantor in Poland, currency exchange often in the US) to change a little money, then a supermarket to spend it on a few things I still need.

Got an email from Ed this morning and Janet is doing well after her pacemaker was installed.  She had to stay overnight in the hospital, pronounced her stir fry dinner passable and expressed her delight at two former U of MN economists winning the Nobel.  That announcement wasn’t on CNN or BBC yesterday but perhaps it was made on Tuesday when I didn’t turn on the TV at all.

To all my friends and relatives with Blackberries ... time to get an iPhone?!  News of Blackberry’s problems outside the US have been almost as ubiquitous as the thwarted alleged Iran plot.  And now it appears the problems have spread to the US.

Bought 20 postcards and sent them today to my ‘kids’ list’ and a few others.  The cost of both was comparable to the US.  Will be interesting to see how long they take to arrive.

A few observations as I drive around ... my favorite private bus company, Citi Hoppa, followed by Compliant MOA.  Bus shelters are labeled “Modern Bus Shelter” and one is so modern it includes a shoe shine stand.  These are co-sponsored by the city council and a promotion company so include advertising like we find in Minneapolis.

Went to a shopping center to change money, get something for lunch and tomorrow’s breakfast and look around ... and what did I find?  An authorized Apple reseller with folks as nice, friendly, helpful as I’ve found in London, Warsaw and Minnesota.  I told Brian that I couldn’t get Google to load at the coffee shop with wi fi even though my AirPort showed a strong connection.  He said sometimes they are not as strong as the indicator says and tested with his portable wi fi (the kind that’s on a thingie like a memory stick and goes into a USB port).  He was right -- it not only loaded Google but also downloaded 50+ messages into my mail.  I was so worried that something had happened to my laptop when I connected at the coffee shop.

14 October, Rumbek, South Sudan

Well, here I am at last.  And it’s pouring rain outside, a real gully, washer so I can imagine what the heavily pot-holed red clay roads look like.

It was raining when I left the hotel this morning too.  My cabbie Francis was right on time, 6 am, and off we went to Wilson Airport, a smaller regional airport.  Our regional director Jan had forewarned me that ALS, the airline to South Sudan, was at the end of the road and indeed it was.  For a moment I thought we were driving to South Sudan.

After my bags were weighed (37 kilos for all), I paid $68 ($4 per kilo for the 17 kilo overage), then waited.  A van drove our small group of about 12 passengers back down the road half way, then dropped us at customs and immigration, then the ubiquitous security check, followed by more waiting.  I snapped a few pix ...

Refueling in Loki

We stopped once where half our group departed, but we all had to deplane so the aircraft could be re-fueled.  Back on board, we (two Aussies, two Slovaks, a Kenyan and me) were asked to sit up front for better balance with the baggage.  Reminded me of a colleague from my marketing days at The St. Paul.  He’d never flown in a little puddle jumper and was aghast when, during check in, they asked his weight.  I told him that’s the one time I am scrupulously honest in my response.

At about 12:30, we finally landed on a packed red-clay runway in Rumbek where it was 29C (almost 85F) and at least 99% humidity ... and I was still wearing the sweater and my raincoat from the wet, chilly takeoff from Nairobi.  Two staff members were waiting for me and after I got checked into the hotel and started to unpack, I had lunch with Jan, then went to the office to meet the staff.  

Sign outside our compound offices

The offices are five rooms in a strip, and mine has an embarrassingly big executive desk.  But it also has air conditioning which, though I don’t like a/c, will be good to take the edge off the heat, and a gecko that we could hear every so often (hope he doesn’t sell insurance).  I met all the staff who were around.  So many names and faces to remember.  Now I’m ready to crash, so g’night for now.

15 October

Slept pretty well last night although I need to figure out a better way to tuck in the mosquito net.  I debated even using it but am glad I did.   Heard a few little buggers when I awoke at night.  Also saw and killed a huge spider.  Probably shouldn’t have done that ... they eat mosquitos, don’t they? ... but it was near my closet.

Room 8 -- my first home in Rumbek

The food at the hotel is good.  The chef is from Nepal and does some lovely vegetarian entrees, often Indian in origin, and I know I’ll enjoy them.  I was mainly a vegetarian in my previous East African assignments, except for the occasional goat stew, which I like.  

There’s a pool here, well used by a group of Russian men who may be soldiers.  At least one was wearing fatigues at supper last night, which is how I knew they were Russian and not from another Eastern European country (flag on his shoulder was Russian).  So it looks like I can continue my swimming exercise although I think it’ll be evenings, not mornings, since the pool opens at 8 am.  But we’ll see how that goes.  There’s also a small gym that I need to check out.  Jan said she uses the treadmill regularly, something I did in Uganda.

Male readers, skip this paragraph lest I embarrass you.  Ladies, guess what I forgot to pack?  Bras.  I have only two, the one I was wearing as I traveled here and the spare I packed in my carryon.  So I’ll be doing what I call a “Susan,” named for my Peace Corps Bestest Friend who used to be a travel agent and knows how to pack efficiently ... like two or three sets of undergarments and socks/stockings that get washed out each night.  

Later ... Spent most of the day with Jan doing on-boarding -- orientation -- and lots more to go.  (I’m trying to remember that Janet prefers being called Jan.)  Later in the day the three members of my Senior Management Team (Juliet, Lucy and Alfred) came over.  Jan had thought she asked them to take me around town; they thought we were having the SMT meeting that wasn’t held yesterday because Juliet didn’t come back from the field in time.  So I grabbed my notes and we set some agendas for further action/discussion next week.  They are all expats too, from Kenya.

Tried a few laps in the pool.  I can tell it’s been a while since I did that.  The pool appears to be chlorinated although it’s not as clear as the Y or pool in Sandomierz.  I may do side strokes, back strokes and others that don’t require putting my face in the water.  Since tomorrow’s Sunday, I may swim before breakfast.  I checked out the gym which has not only a treadmill but a stationary bicycle, an elliptical runner and a small universal set up.  So some choices.

16 October

Just finished a short swim.  Tried for 8 am but the pool was being cleaned, and they were still at it an hour later.  Jan says they do a thorough cleaning every day at 8.  So I went to breakfast and decided to try

17 October

Well, that last addition got far, didn’t it?  I did finally get in a swim late in the afternoon, after a heavy rainfall and a tour of the town with Juliet, one of my senior managers.  Juliet told me that the driver was going very slowly not just because of the potholes but because if he splashes water on someone, the fine is very high -- at least one head of cattle!  And if he does splash, he doesn’t stop; he goes directly to the police station for fear of being attacked personally.  Shades of Uganda.  

I don’t know how to describe Rumbek for those of you who haven’t experienced Africa.  I’d call it “Nebbi on steroids” if that made sense of you.  Basically the shopping district sits along the two upper arms of a Y with each arm a one way street that’s two lanes and two ditches wide and maybe going a half a mile before the arms come together.  The streets are lined on both sides with, at best, concrete block three-sided stalls with tin roofs ... and at worst, items for sale on a cloth or piece of plastic on the ground in front of a stall.  Even in a “grocery store” the assortment of items is small and from a wide range of what’s needed locally.  The store where I actually bought a jar of Extra Crunchy Jif is where I bought Doom mosquito spray, two of the approximately 25 different products the shopkeeper had to sell.  Others sell clothing (didn’t see a place to try on), auto parts, plumbing fixtures, cell phones, cell phones and more cell phones as well as airtime for those cell phones since all are pay-as-you-go.  The ditches were full of muddy water and a few shops, like the one where I shopped, had handmade bamboo or cane “bridges” across the water.

Most people live in bandas, those round or square mud-brick, thatched-roof huts you see in documentaries on Africa.  Generally they are in compounds demarcated by the grassless ground around them; it’s impolite to cut through a compound.  Occasionally compounds are surrounded by fences, some built of cane or bamboo, some just a ring of the dead hulls of palm trees (the big heavy wooden parts at the bottom of a palm frond). Downed, stripped-of-their-bark non-palm trees make ideal meeting places for children and young adults and we passed several gatherings.

Bandas near our office

Needless to say, there are people who live in concrete block houses behind concrete block fences topped by razor wire.  But other than this hotel, which meets those criteria minus the razor wire, I don’t see many of those.  When I walk to the office, I take the short cut Jan showed me, passing between several compounds.  If I pass close to someone, I always say, “Hi,” and children especially will call out “hello” or “good morning” cheerfully and repeatedly.

Today as I wended my way down the zig-zaggy path back to the office after lunch, I came to a fork and made a turn, the wrong turn.  A group of women and children in a nearby compound called out, and I turned around because something felt like they were speaking to me although I had no idea what they were saying.  When I looked, they motioned the direction of the right path.  They had seen me pass by earlier and knew where I was to go even if I didn’t.  On the way home, as I passed the final compound before the road, a woman called out, “Good evening.”  I responded in kind, and she asked, “What is your name?”  I told her “Suzi” and asked hers, to which she responded, “Deborah.”  So now I know the short cut begins at Deborah’s compound.

Well, it’s pouring rain, and I’m starving and without Internet.  At least we have electricity; the hotel has a generator.  I’m stuck for a while.

19 October

I just saw a cat ... the small domestic kind.  It ran across the path in front of me as I was puzzling over a small coconut palm that was leaning at a 45 degree angle onto the cables from the “duplex” next door and the one where I live.  (The hotel rooms are in a series of 10 buildings, each with two en suite bedrooms.)  Then the cat ran off.  I’ve only seen two dogs since I’ve been here, although goats and cows are everywhere.  They’re all free-range.

Yesterday our daily deluge came early, around 4 pm, just as I decided I’d go into town to get airtime for my mobile and a few other things.  William drove slowly and carefully.  As we passed the police station, he told me the police had their hands full today.  He pointed to a gigantic equipment moving flatbed truck that was sitting across the street in the huge, and very wet, town square.  Apparently the driver, a military man, had run over and killed an old man.  (I later learned that he was a spiritual leader and related to the head of our security service.)  The driver was taken to the jail, but the old man’s family soon rallied and gathered.  They were intent on removing the driver from the jail and killing him.  The only evidence of a possible problem were the lines of helmeted police officers with shields and riot sticks but no guns who were walking through the business district.  Everyone else was doing “business as usual,” shopping and talking, trying to navigate the slippery red clay streets and to avoid the many ponds and streams that had formed.  I’ve been told this is called Lakes State because it is so flat that every time it rains the state becomes like a series of lakes.

Errands completed, we headed back toward the hotel ... when we heard a loud noise.  No, not at all like a gun shot.  William said immediately that we’d blown a tire ... and he was right.  He got out to check the damage and quickly called a colleague who was driving a group back from the field.  When the second driver arrived, I was dispatched with him and had a chance to talk to the sponsorship assistants who had been paying the monthly stipend ($10 in local money) to our participants.

Today the deluge has seen fit to pass by despite this afternoon’s gathering of dark clouds.  Hurray, that will make the walk to the office less hazardous and dirty.  I had one of our cleaners wash my sneakers and a pair of sandals this morning.  The soles of both were caked with red clay that I was tracking into the office, etc.  She literally washed them, so I’m waiting for them to dry so I can wear them again.  But they are clean!

22 October

Work has been so hectic that I haven’t had a chance to write. Two HQ staff have arrived to help me because several key staff have resigned or their projects are done. Aboubakar from Finance is originally from Benin and David from the Controller’s Office grew up in White Bear Lake MN.  His dad retired from none other than The St. Paul Companies, and our tenures overlapped though he was mainly in Woodbury.  Small, small world!

Just as I was walking to the pool tonight, it started to rain.  But it was just a sprinkle so I kept going and for the first time all week, I finally got in a swim.  The water was incredibly warm, and I miss my flotation belt.  But I’m slowly increasing the number of exercises I can do without it (other than swim laps which I still hate).  The water felt so good.  After a shower, I met the WfWI group for happy hour.  David had brought rum and he and AB made rum and cokes.  Jan had a bottle of cabernet that she opened, and I had a couple of glasses of that.  It was a great way to unwind.

23 October 

Today’s the day I was supposed to be born.  Mom’s birthday was 23 July and Dad’s 23 August, so they wanted their first child to be born on 23 October.  I was due on the 24th and I arrived on the 25th.  At Friday’s staff meeting, I promised donuts to the staff on my birthday.  We have a women’s group that has learned some bakery skills and makes donuts for sale.  I asked James to order 100, the donuts are small and our staff is big.

We had a group meeting this morning as Jan continues to do a ‘brain dump’ of all she needs to pass along to each of us.  Then off to lunch in the garden -- today’s weather has been kind of moderate, comparatively speaking.  Probably only 80 and a lovely breeze ... until I returned to my room, sat to do some emails while lunch settled and prepared to go swim.  A storm started ... another deluge complete with thunder.  No swim today.

Later ... While the deluge has passed somewhat, it’s still raining hard.  Have had luck with Skype calls this weekend -- talked to Jean in SF and my sister in Minneapolis, both using SkypeOut credit and Bob in Reno Skype-to-Skype.

25 October

Happy birthday to me.  The staff inhaled the 100 donuts I bought.   At dinner, Aboubakar sang “happy birthday” in French, and David had supplied some Belgian dark chocolate that made a perfect end to the day.  Got lots of happy birthday messages via email from family, friends and new colleagues at WfWI.  I learned that Karen, my boss, is also a Scorpio as is Jan.  What a trio we will make, eh?

I think my sister sent my birthday greeting before going to bed in MN as it was in my inbox when I awoke this morning, my very first.  Thank you, Barbara.  And thanks to all of you for remembering me.  The e-cards and emails warmed up the celebration.

27 October

We eat breakfast outdoors in the garden, and Aboubakar commented that we’d told him the weather was unbearably hot.  Since his arrival, it’s actually been bearable ... even coolish in the mornings. Yesterday just before we left work, the fiercest wind blew up ... for a moment I thought a tornado had landed in the office courtyard.  Dirt, dust, leaves and such were flying and the trees and plants were swaying severely.  Didn’t last long, maybe 20 minutes.  

Garden where we eat most meals

This week has settled into a dull roar.  Still lots to do but with the landlord no longer harassing us, I can actually get things done.  He had landed in my office an hour after I arrived, full of rumors and accusations, none of them true.  And he continued in that vein all week, telling us we had to leave the offices.  Now mind you, my predecessor signed a lease that didn’t allow either party to terminate the lease.  He finally stopped after we went to the local authority in charge of NGOs.

Went to my first “coordinating” meeting today held by the local authority in charge of NGOs (yes, the same one).  Met the leaders of a host of international NGOs from the World Food Programme and UN High Commission on Refugees to Red Cross and more.  They meet monthly for two hours, and it was nice to see the director started within 15 minutes of the official time and ended on time.  The Belgian chocolate is calling ...

30 October

Aboubakar, David and I took a Sunday drive into Rumbek after breakfast.  Ab had never seen the town, and since he’s willing to drive the small pickup, we decided that was a good time.  Not as busy and a lot dryer than when I made the trip a few weeks ago.  We stopped and took some pix.  I’ll post those and include a link.

Ab  and David stop for a photo op

I was able to swim before dinner.  The pool was empty as was the gym, but I figured I wouldn’t be doing anything strenuous and would be okay.  I did about 12 laps, then some treading water and exercises.  I’ve been staying 20-25 minutes.  I may have to take my bedside clock with me as I try to stay longer.  I just wish lap swimming weren’t so boring.

Got in a short Skype call to my brother and his wife before the Internet cut out.  They will leave next Sunday for the sunny and dry CA desert for the winter.  I usually manage to get in a week of relaxing with them but not sure if that’s in the cards this winter.  Dan said Tahoe got a foot of snow on its upper peaks.  Looks like a good ski season.

The early snow reminds me of the year I left for Peace Corps.  On Halloween night, we had more than 30 inches of snow fall in Minneapolis ... and my 18-year-old son had a kegger in the garage of our sold-and-waiting-to-close townhouse, landing himself in jail for the night.  He and his enterprising friends charged a dollar for a beer, so he was charged with selling liquor to minors.  The culmination of all those admonitions that started with my parents -- “If you land in jail, don’t bother to call because you’re spending the night.”  The St. Louis Park jail is pretty benign compared to most, but it was a good lesson for him to learn.  I bailed him out the net morning.

31 October

Didn’t I write that the rainy season was over?  Not!  A fierce wind blew up at about 4 pm followed shortly after by another gulley washer.  It poured solidly for almost two hours, rested at very light sprinkle when we left the office at 6:30, then started again when we went to dinner.  It’s still raining so I’ll finish this and tuck into bed.